


Purr-plexed

by Zenith_Lux



Series: Through the Ashes [16]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Cat!Dante, Family Fluff, Gen, lots of bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:43:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22580065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenith_Lux/pseuds/Zenith_Lux
Summary: After Dante gets turned into a cat by a disgruntled demon witch, everyone must locate three demonic items to turn him back before he gets himself (or them) into any deeper trouble.
Relationships: Dante/Lucia (Devil May Cry), Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Through the Ashes [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1477619
Kudos: 9





	Purr-plexed

**Author's Note:**

> A quick note to my regular readers: yes this is being reposted as its own story. It was originally part of Rekindle, but I decided to separate those stories because they were more than capable of standing on their own. 
> 
> Regardless, to both old and new readers, hope you enjoy the fluff ^^

Once upon a time, Vergil despised Devil May Cry. It had always been a bit too stuffy with a near-permanent stench of alcohol that permeated from the walls themselves. The floorboards used to creak with the lightest of steps, and the stairs were always inches from shattering into a million pieces. The furniture itself might as well have been made from cardboard, except for the couch, which would have been much comfier if it were crafted out of lumpy concrete. 

But, things had changed since Iris and Lucia had moved in. While Vergil hadn’t been there for the “Dante Transformation” as Nero called it, he did see the aftermath. The building itself was immaculate, made from bricks instead of wood and an entirely new interior which took months even with Dante’s demonic abilities. The whole thing was quite ironic given the state of the still destroyed city around it, but Vergil was impressed. Now, “office sitting” during their extended stays outside of the Underworld wasn’t entirely unpleasant. 

At the very least, Vergil no longer had the urge to burn the place down.

Today was a quiet day, though he wasn’t particularly surprised. Dante had transitioned from that old, beat-up phone - which was still sitting unplugged on his desk - to a cell phone, so the office itself didn’t receive calls. Vergil had an extra phone on him, but only for family emergencies. He rarely saw walk-in clients, though they were always dealt with in a timely manner, and all payments were donated to Nero with a belated “apology” to Dante once he returned. And after spending the last two days at Nero’s house, Vergil was glad to get some time away. 

As much as he loved his family- which was honestly immeasurable at this point- they were exhausting. 

Ashira, however, was irrevocably irritated. Vergil was used to moments like this, especially since Ashira had already finished her book of the week and needed something else to occupy her time. Why she had chosen to tackle Dante’s mess of finances was anyone’s guess. For the most part, her thoughts had been nothing more than quiet frustration that was so far in the back of Vergil’s mind that he could ignore it completely. If anything, she was listening more intently to him, as the contents of the book was much more interesting than the piles upon piles of papers and folders that had turned into a mess far too quickly. 

“What is the point of all of this?” Vergil wasn’t certain if she was trying to get his attention, or merely voicing her irritation at the heavens. “Or, even better, how in the world does he keep track of any of this!?” One hand landed on a pile of mis-matched folders. “Payments mixed with old, already paid bills and receipts for seven different pizza joints.” Her hand moved to a second pile. “His most important, upcoming bills are mixed with old calendars that are filled with all the incorrect due dates.” She kicked at a file cabinet in pure frustration. “And don’t get me _started_ on that discombobulated garbage. I don’t think Dante even knows what's in there.”

Vergil snorted. “Discombobulated?”

Her shoulders sagged as she turned to him, more than aware that he wasn’t mocking her. “It was a good word for the mood.” Vergil had to bite back his surprise at how metaphorically dead her eyes looked, as if trying to organize his brother’s mess had sucked out her very soul. “Please continue,” she said as she drifted toward him like a log lost in a river. “The story was just getting interesting.”

Vergil chuckled as he held his hand out to her. “Might as well join me.” She hummed in agreement and let him pull her sideways onto his lap. After her arms wrapped loosely around his neck, he steadied her with his free hand and returned to the book. This time, he read aloud, as she always appreciated his actual voice over stray thoughts when they had the chance. 

_“Home is behind, the world ahead,_

_And there are many paths to tread_

_Through shadows to the edge of night_

_Until the stars are all alight…”_

The door slammed open. The Kindle hit the floor, but Ashira didn’t. Vergil was only vaguely surprised to find that his tail had manifested to pull her back even faster than he’d moved. When his eyes snapped to the doorway, he was met with a furious Lucia, and Iris on the verge of laughter. “We’ve got a problem,” Lucia said. 

At first, Vergil was alarmed, as a “problem” with a missing Dante usually wasn’t good news. But then he realized that Lucia had a rather large, white cat draped over her arm like a towel. Except this cat had a very, _very_ familiar red soul attached to it. And Ashira’s groan alone told him all he needed to know.

“What did you do?”

A dejected meow was all it took for Iris to burst into uncontrollable laughter. 

* * *

After nearly an hour, a trip to Nero’s house, and two separate retellings, Vergil still didn't understand how Dante had gotten himself into such a predicament. 

Well, the _how_ was obvious when it came to his brother. The _why_ was another question entirely. 

“So basically," Nero said. "Dante said something stupid to the wrong demon, and ended up like this.” Nero's eyes drifted to the kids on the floor. After Dante had tried to sneak multiple pieces of junk food from Nero's kitchen, despite frequent warnings against it as it was not suitable for a cat, they'd finally pulled out their best weapon; the kids. Now, they and Calcifer were practically fawning over Dante, who had relished the attention at first. Until they figured out that he was still a cat with matching instincts, which included a fascination with small moving objects. Now, the kids were tossing multiple balls of yarn around the living room to see what color he'd chase after (always red, much to Angelica's smug delight). And Dante did chase after them, though Vergil wasn’t certain if it was willingly. 

Lucia sighed. “I wasn’t there when it happened, but that’s what Cal said. Something about an ‘old hag barking up the wrong tree’”

“So she… turned him into a cat?” Vergil said. 

“Yep.”

A part of him wanted to laugh. Of all the absurd things that could have happened to Dante over the years, this was not one he had considered. But the logical and therefore dominant half of his brain was more concerned with how they were going to fix such a mess. Neither Lucia nor Iris actually saw the demon. Calcifer said “the ugly woman went poof”, which Ashira had translated as “teleported away with some kind of smoke magic”. The chances of finding the demon were low unless they returned to the Underworld, which was difficult to do when _everyone_ felt his arrival. Besides, the chances of them going through the library without Pythagoras...

His thoughts froze, but it was Ashira who groaned in disdain. “You can’t be serious.”

“I wish I wasn’t.” He muttered.

“Care to let us in on it?” Nero said. 

“Pythagoras,” they echoed. Even the half-demon kids jerked back to stare at them at the simple uttering of the obnoxious librarian’s name. 

Nero just blinked. “Who?”

And as they explained to him how terrible of a trip it was going to be, no one paid any attention to the little white cat as he slunk back into the kitchen. This time, he dragged an entire pizza box behind him in pure satisfaction, happy that some of his strength had transferred to this new form. Finally, he'd get to enjoy some sweet, delectable food in peace...

 _"Does he know that's empty?"_ Ashira thought.

Vergil smirked. _"Nope."_

* * *

Pythagoras’s laugh boomed through the library, even as Nero stared at him in stupefied shock.

“This is the big, scary, Pythagroas?” He muttered to Vergil.

“By definition, no.”

“But the way you spoke about him…”

“Not right now.” The last thing Vergil wanted was to risk offending the demon when he was the only one they could turn to. Nero seemed to understand, for he simply rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, and looked back to the librarian. Except said librarian had laughed so hard that one of his dolls had swooped in to keep him upright. 

In another second, he fell silent. Vergil and Ashira, who were both used to this, just glared at him. The others took a long step back. “You… are an idiot,” the demon said as his eyes fell to Dante. Except his brother was in the middle of licking one of his paws, and froze when he realized that everyone was staring at him. A long moment later, his eyes fell to his paw. Then, he yowled, leaping backwards, but tripped over his tail. “He said, why was I doing that,” Calcifer translated with a quiet huff. Lucia scooped Dante into her arms, and while his ears flattened on his head, Vergil didn’t miss the quiet purr as she scratched him. 

“Must you do that?” Vergil said.

“He’s my _partner_.”

“He’s my _brother._ ”

“You gotta admit,” Ashira muttered. “He is pretty cute.”

Vergil’s gaze jerked to her instead, certain that Dante was cackling somehow behind him. But Ashira moved on before Vergil had a chance to argue with her. “Can you fix this?” She said to Pythagoras. “Quickly?”

“Why would I?” He said. “He’s probably just as useful to you like that.”

Vergil felt his own demon spike in Dante’s defense. “Fix it,” he growled, certain that his eyes were glowing. It was much too easy to do that now, especially in the Underworld. Most demons would back away in some kind of panic. Pythagoras just glared a thim. 

Finally, the demon sighed. “Meleria's curses are not easy to remove, and I am incapable of gathering the… necessary tools.”

Vergil frowned, certain the demon was up to something. The look Ashira gave him practically confirmed it. But Nero, none the wiser, spoke up before either of them could say anything. “What tools?”

Vergil resisted a sigh of disapproval (“ _You really must learn how to speak to demons, son”)_. Pythagoras grinned and held up three fingers. “The perfect blade of a Fury, plenty in Redgrave so lucky for you.” One finger went down. “A resonate crystal. Morpheus will know where to find that.” A second finger went down. “And one of the final branches of the Qliphoth Tree.”

Vergil didn’t have a clue how all of that could possibly do anything, but now they didn’t have much of a choice. “I’ll go to Morpheus,” Ashira said. “The Underworld doesn’t react as much to my return as it does yours.”

“Then I’ll find the branch,” Lucia said. “Calcifer can fly us there.”

Nero grinned. “Leaving the blade to me, then?”

“Not alone.” Vergil said. 

“What?” He spun on Vergil in what he thought was rage. But then he realized that his son was smirking with pure, competitive spirit. “You think I can’t handle it, _pops?_ ”

“I’d be marginally more successful,” Vergil said cooly. 

“Like Hell,” Nero said. “Bring it on.”

“The blade has to be in one piece.” Pythagoras said. Then, as an afterthought, he muttered, “As does everything else, for that matter.”

“How long do we have?” Lucia said. 

“The quicker the better,” Pythagoras said. “I’ll be waiting.”

He vanished with a snap. Ashira rolled her eyes. “Ever the dramatic.”

Nero’s wings yanked Vergil back with some mixture of “let's go” and “this will be easy”. _"He might not be the only one."_ Vergil thought. 

_“In our family?”_ Ashira snorted. _“Absolutely not.”_

* * *

Ashira had only been to Morpheus “work place” as he called it a few times since their move to the Underworld. Vergil hadn’t been able to describe it, as he and Nero had been yanked through dreams and never actually saw the place. But for Ashira, it changed every time she visited. Morpheus never explained why, and Ashira never bothered asking.

Today, she stepped into a cozy office with dark blue walls, hardwood floors, and a gray rug. His collection of books and dreams turned to crystals were all nestled in a built-in bookshelf and perfectly organized; a welcome change from the madness that was Dante’s office. A fireplace in the corner and the candles on the desk gave the room an unnatural, reddish-orange glow. 

“Your highness,” Morpheus said as he rose from his desk with a gentle bow. Ashira had once told all of her attendants that formality wasn’t needed between them. But many of them insisted, calling it “an honor to work directly with Demon Royalty”. Apparently, former kings (Emperors… Princes… whatever they called themselves) prefered to create their workers instead of appointing them. So, Ashira had let it go. “Priscilla is in the castle, I believe, fixing a few of your dresses.”

“I actually needed to speak with you,” She said. His surprise wasn’t unexpected. Morpheus was part of Pythagoras’ - and therefore Vergil’s - royal advisors. Ashira rarely interacted with him beyond official meetings. Even then, their conversation was kept strictly business, and it was usually Vergil who took control of that. “Pythy sent me.”

Morpheus raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“He says you can help me find a resonate crystal.”

“That is an…” He paused, rubbing at his chin. “Interesting name for it.” He turned toward the bookshelf and pulled down one of a large pile of clear crystals, smoothed down in a perfect cube. “Though not inaccurate.”

“What do you call them?”

“Catalysts.” He held one out to her. “This is how I gather people’s dreams.” When she took it, he pointed up to the other, colored crystals on the far wall, each one filled with various types of liquids and energy turned to clouds. “It’s a bit of a complicated process, but I keep the majority up there while I work through extracting their magic so they don’t return to those I took them from.”

Ashira turned the crystal in her hand with a frown. “Pythagoras doesn’t have your magic.”

“I’ve given these to him in the past,” Morpheus said. “Though I couldn’t tell you what he uses them for.”

Ashira had already been a bit suspicious of Pythagoras’ intentions. Now she was certain he wasn’t being entirely truthful. Regardless, she pocketed the crystal. No use in fighting over it. “I apprec-”

_“Ashira…”_

Her eyes snapped back to his collection of dreams. “Vergil?”

“You heard it?” Morpheus said. “That’s quite impressive, your highness. It’s very rare for loved ones to resonate with another’s nightmares, even soulmates.”

“I thought Griffon and Shadow were his nightmares.”

“Two of them,” Morpheus said. “I wasn’t able to form the third.” He pushed aside a few of the crystals, revealing a large circular one. Unlike the others, that crystal seemed almost lumpy, like an oddly shaped rock. Inside was a dark purple cloud that flickered with the occasional, light purple glow. “I wasn’t interested in diving too deeply into his highnesses memories. I knew what he was looking for because of his dreams, but the familiars formed on their own.”

 _“Ashira…”_ The crystal whispered. _“I’m… please don’t…”_

Her heart sunk at the break in his voice. Confronting said nightmares was one of the very few times he’d ever been that emotional. “But this one didn’t?” 

He shook his head. “I haven’t been able to extract it either. All I can do is keep it contained so it doesn’t return.”

“Did he not face this one?”

“He broke my magic before he could.”

Ashira paused, turning the crystal in her hand. Vergil’s voice continued to echo in her mind, but it was quiet and fragmented. He had told her of the other two nightmares: her death without him, and his own fear of losing his family bleeding into Nero’s own. He still dealt with memories of his time as Nelo Angelo, dreams she still took from time to time when she was awake enough to do so. That trauma was likely something even Morpheus couldn’t remove. So Ashira couldn’t imagine what other nightmare would be too strong for Morpheus’s own magic.

“Show me,” She said. 

“Your highness...”

“It won’t return to him while I’m here, right?” She held the crystal out. “I’ve taken his dreams before, I can handle this one too.”

“That does explain how you can hear it,” He muttered, but the hesitation on his face was almost painful. “If I release it in this state, it is unlikely I will be able to contain it a second time.”

“I can handle it.”

Finally, he nodded. As he took it, the room changed. The desk vanished. The walls and ceilings expanded a near impossible distance, and turned a blinding shade of white. His collection was pulled back into one of the walls as the door vanished. “I will have to leave while you confront it,” He said. “But if it becomes too great to handle, I will pull you out.” His eyes met her with fierce determination. Ashira hid her surprise, as it was the kind of look she could only imagine on a father desperate to protect his child. “No matter the consequences.”

“Do not sacrifice yourself for my choices.”

He didn’t reply, nor did she think he would follow that particular command. “Good luck, your highness.”

As Morpheus vanished, the crystal shattered against the floor. The smoke exploded in all directions, enveloping the room. But the flickers of power only grew, crackling through the air itself. Griffon appeared on her shoulder in an instant as Shadow morphed from the floor. “Are you trying to get us killed, princess?” He said with an irritated flap of his wings. 

“But you can protect me from anything,” She said innocently. “Even better than Shadow, if I recall.”

If a bird could scowl, Ashira was certain he would have. “I never said that.” Shadow growled, and Griffon quickly added, “and actually meant it.”

Suddenly, the shadows surged past her before gathering in the middle of the room. It swirled inward like a thick tornado. Ashira dropped to the ground, holding onto both familiars as the wind nearly dragged them all in. As it funneled toward the ceiling, it branched out into something akin to limbs. The top pulled together, the funnel turning into a small ball with a bright purple eye. When the smoke dispersed, it knocked them all away. V appeared in time to catch her, but his grin was unmistakable.

“And here I thought I’d never see you again, old friend.”

* * *

It had been a considerable amount of time since Lucia had been to the Underworld. She hadn’t been particularly keen on going back, as the human world was much cozier and less deadly (most of the time). Then there were the memories, many of which she’d rather forget. At least for the moment, none of them bothered her. She was focused on rescuing her Dante, and very few things would distract her from that.

Calcifer’s flying was one of those few. Lucia was half convinced the dragon was drunk or possibly overwhelmed by the Underworld after being away for so long. He _said_ he knew where the Qliphoth had been (“I’d never forget that place! It’s where mama found her Soulmate again!”) but he flew in a completely nonsensical way. Sometimes he’d curve upwards. Sometimes he’d dive back down without any kind of warning. Other times he’d veer to the right, only to turn back to the left as if he hadn’t noticed. Once or twice, he had shouted “Hold on!” and done a literal barrel roll where even Dante - who was safely wrapped up in Lucia’s jacket - had yowled in pure fright. After the second one, he’d found his way up to her neck and popped his little, feline head out to hiss at Calcifer, he _finally_ agreed to stop being so careless. 

At least the dragon was enjoying himself. Or something. Honestly, Lucia wasn’t quite sure what to think of it. 

“There it is!” Calcifer yelled. Dante meowed a few times, and the dragon growled. “Does it matter, cat-man?” Another hiss. “You’re the one who got us into this mess!”

Dante huffed, but both his head and his front paws (which he had also managed to pull out over the last twenty minutes) hung in begrudging acceptance. Lucia sighed and scratched at the back of his ears. He purred. “Don’t get used to it,” Lucia said. Dante’s head tilted back with a quiet and hopeful noise, but Lucia just rolled her eyes and (gently) bopped his nose. He recoiled in shock, before producing something close to a mutter (she honestly wasn’t sure _what_ he was doing, and was guessing purely on how well she knew him) and let his head hang again. 

“Don’t worry,” Lucia said, a bit quieter this time. “We’ll fix this soon.”

He didn’t respond to that, but his ears perked just a bit. 

Calcifer landed with marginally more grace than his flying, which was to say he skidded a few feet rather than crashing straight into the trees. “I think you need some flying lessons, Cal,” Lucia said as she slipped from his back. 

In a flash of light, Calcifer slipped back into his baby form and trudged to her side as Dante hopped to the ground. “Cat-man doesn’t let me carry him anymore.” Dante hissed again, swiping at Cal’s head. The dragon jerked away, but growled and nipped at Dante’s paw. “It’s true!”

“Stop,” Lucia said as she plucked Calcifer off the ground. Dante’s tail flicked upward along with his chin and he trotted off as Calcifer settled on her shoulder. “I don’t think that’s wise, dear.”

His meow literally echoed through the Underworld as he hopped over a tiny branch. “He says “relax…” Calcifer’s head tilted. “Babe?” He shook his head. “I’ve got this.”

Lucia crossed her arms. “Sure looks like it.”

Another meow. “It’s just a stick, Ms. Lucy.” Another hiss. Calcifer growled. “Drop the ‘Ms.’ he says. I’m just being polite!” 

As Lucia followed after him, she felt something in the air, strong enough that it weighed on her very body. Weary, she broke into a jog. “Dante,” he was still running, jumping back and forth without a care in the world. He’d prod at a branch from time to time, but would leave without more than a glance. But with each step she took, the air thickened around her. 

What demon could do this? There wasn’t a demon around as far as she could tell, nor did she see anything unusual. Was the demon that had cursed Dante back? Would she actually pursue them into the Underworld? From Calcifer’s admittedly limited description, she had seemed more like a typical, human-esque witch who probably had a few, inaccurate stories told about her in the nearest towns. Pythagoras had known her name, so maybe she could jump back and forth like he did.

“Dante,” She said. This time, he spun around with a long blink to signal his attention. “Something’s…” She stumbled forward. Dante rushed back to her, and though she appreciated the gesture, she almost laughed at the idea of a cat attempting to catch her. Dante hopped onto her bent knee and pressed his forehead to her cheek. “There’s something here,” She said. “I don’t know what it is.” 

His ears pressed hard against his head as his eyes scanned the area. She wondered if any of his demonic senses had transferred to his cat form or if he was just being protective. She wished she could hear his calming jokes or promises that he’d “take care of things, easy peasy”. The silence was grating, especially as she struggled to breathe.

A quiet meow barely reached her ears. “It’s going to be okay,” Calcifer translated. A second, much longer meow prompted the dragon to stared at him in pure concentration. “He says that the Qliphoth Tree left behind a lot of power after they…” He paused. Dante purred. “Cut it down.” After another long set of meows, Calcifer said, “a lot of demons without brains would come to this place thinking there were things to eat, but stronger demons are naturally afraid of it.”

“Did you feel that way?” She said as she stood back up.

Dante paused with a slight tilt of his head. His next meow was quiet. “Not all the time,” Calcifer said. “He and Mr. Vergil fought on top of the thing, so they were used to it by then. But…” Calcifer paused. “I can’t say that word.” Dante rolled his eyes and hissed something else. “They felt it sometimes. Even Mr. Vergil.” 

A rumble at her feet almost knocked Lucia back down. Calcifer tumbled off her shoulder, and Dante barely dodged out of the way. She scrambled away as the ground burst a few feet from her, but was quick to calm her nerves. She thought she should have been more excited, as it had been a long time since she’d actually fought anything (devil-arm form aside). But instead, when a massive worm with an equally enormous, shark-toothed filled mouth and no eyes curled above her, she swallowed her uncertainty. It’s skin was far too big for the small daggers Lucia had brought with her. 

An oversight on her part, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

But as she prepared to fight it, Dante leapt in front of her. “What are you doing?” She yelled. The worm didn’t move, and she wondered if a demon like that could be confused. Dante knees bent as if he was going to pounce. “Dante!”

The worm’s head darted toward him. Dante’s own rose. Lucia lurched forward as her heart shot into her throat.

A loud roar startled all three of them as a stream of fire slammed into the worm. Dante scrambled back straight into Lucia’s arms as relief flooded through her. The worm melted before them, its body seeping back into the hole it had come from. Calcifer growled as his larger-than-usual head stretched out past them and smoke billowed from his mouth. Lucia reached up to pat his neck in thanks, but turned her anger on Dante. “Are you insane?” 

Dante practically wilted, but his silver eyes never left hers. She barely heard the meows that followed. “He says he had to protect you,” Calcifer said. “He wasn’t… thinking.”

Lucia felt a curious flurry in her stomach as she swallowed a sigh. She curled Dante against her chest, earning a quiet purr as she stood again. “Let me help you,” She said. “I can handle it.”

“He says, “I know. I just can’t help myself, Ms. Lucy.”

As Dante hissed at the dragon again, Lucia’s eyes caught a single stick in the distance; one consumed by Calcifer’s flames. But while the rest had turned to ashes, this one continued to burn. “Hey,” She said with a gentle nudge. Dante mewled in excitement. 

“That’s what Pythy’s looking for,” Calcifer said. “He says he’d recognize that white branch anywhere.”

How Dante knew that branch was white was beyond her, but Lucia trusted him. “There’s some water nearby,” Calcifer said. “I’ll go get some to put it out.” He took off the second he was done, leaving Lucia to stare at the flames.

“A branch that never burns?” She said. 

She didn’t need Calcifer to interpret Dante’s growl of suspicion. 

* * *

Vergil wasn’t the least bit surprised that his and Nero’s competition had turned into an all out brawl. It was certainly counterproductive (to say the least), but they had located the fury nest in record time, and none of the ones who had emerged had been a challenge. Though it had taken a few tries to extract an entire blade before the bodies disintegrated, and the two had actually needed to work together to accomplish that feat. But when Nero had claimed that the kill belonged to him, Vergil’s swift denial had started their competition all over again.

Not that he minded. Ashira had promised to call him back once she and Lucia returned. And, considering the absolute silence in his mind, Vergil knew she wasn’t anywhere near them. So, the battle was an inevitability. An easy way to fill the time. The “Sparda family special” if you will. 

It certainly wasn’t a needed distraction. 

Vergil definitely wasn’t bothered but the eerie silence in his head. 

Why would anyone think that? That would be silly. 

This particular point in their duel had been going on for quite awhile. The two were dead even counting Nero’s “kill”, which Vergil only tolerated because Nero wouldn’t stop arguing with him over it. Nero’s capabilities had grown exponentially since the last time they had dueled. His movements were more varied, shifting between his usual, reckless abandon and a more calculative, graceful style. Vergil didn’t miss how his stance shifted during those moments; an almost perfect reflection of Vergil himself. 

He would have been proud, if Nero had given him any reprieve to think about it. 

When the two clashed for what was probably the dozenth time (Vergil had lost count), he swiped Fumetsu at Nero’s feet. His son jumped it, dodged two summoned swords, pushed back on Yamato…

… and was promptly knocked out of the sky with a single feather. 

He hit the ground with a grunt, momentarily dazed. “Where the hell did you pull that from?” He groaned as he sat up. This time, he didn’t get to his feet, and Vergil sheathed Yamato with a satisfying click. “She’s not even _here._ ”

“I hold on to a few,” Vergil said with a shrug as he pulled the feather back to himself. To prove his point, he tossed Nero one of the golden ones he kept in his pocket. “And that is a point in my favor.” Nero grunted, breaking the feather in his hand. Vergil didn’t bother reaching for the second one, nor did he tell Nero that he could only control a single feather at a time. His summoned swords were a part of his mind. The feather was what Dante would refer to as a “hail mary” that he wasn’t nearly as successful with. Vergil was honestly surprised it had come back to him without bursting into flames.

But what Nero didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. 

“So we’re even.”

Vergil’s eyes narrowed. “Your counting skills are as lacking as your Uncle.”

“I finished Pythy’s job,” Nero said as he hopped to his feet and jut his thumb against his chest. “That’s an automatic two points.”

“That was not the agreed on total.”

“Well I changed my mind.”

“That’s also not how it works.”

“What’cha gonna do about it?”

Vergil scowled, but couldn’t hide his amusement. “Fine,” He said as he flipped Fumetsu in his hand. “Winner take all?”

Nero revved Red Queen with a grin. "I'm proud, pops! You almost sound as young as you look." In another moment, his demonic energy pulsed outward, triggering his rather dramatic transformation. Vergil did the same, unable to resist the pull of his son’s challenge. “Bring it on,” Nero’s demon growled. 

The two charged. Nero pulled Red Queen back, Vergil summoned Yamato…

A massive black creature dropped down between them. Both slammed into it, frozen for the briefest of moments before shooting backward. Vergil’s demon form vanished before he hit the ground, and, considering Nero’s surprised grunt, he was certain his son had done the same. “What the hell?” Nero shouted from the other side. “We did not need some dramatic rescue, Shy.”

Vergil lay still for a moment, welcoming the quiet murmurs of her mind. He swore he heard an amused chuckle - _miss me, Saina? -_ but wasn’t certain. It didn’t matter. “That’s rather ironic coming from you,” Ashira said with a click of her tongue. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Vergil chuckled, but the quiet noise caught in his throat the second he sat up. There Ashira was, sitting with her legs crossed on the shoulder of a creature he never thought he'd see again. _Nightmare._ He almost laughed. The hulking monstrosity looked the same it had when V had conscripted it. Same shape. Same gloppy skin that seemed to pulse and shift with the demon’s energy. Same, log like limbs with dozens of protrusions that were perfect for slaughtering any demon that got too close. And when it turned toward Vergil, he swore he saw a flicker of _something_ in its singular, purple eye. 

Happiness? 

Impossible.

Ashira grinned at him. “I found your nightmare, Vergil.” She patted the creature’s head. “And it’s quite useful, if I do say so myself.”

Vergil shifted to her side, but hesitated when he went to touch the creature. Foggy memories prickled in his mind, and he wasn’t sure exactly what nightmare it's death had eased. But, given his last experience with Morpheus, he was certain it was something new. Something so important to him that it could exist as her new familiar instead.

 _“One you took from me,”_ She whispered in his mind. _“A long time ago… when I first lost my sight.”_ There was a moment's pause before she continued. _“I feared that I would never be strong enough for you, or strong enough to protect myself. That one day I’d let you down… lose a fight to a demon or reaver I couldn’t handle… and that you would suffer or die... ”_ When she blinked, he was certain it was to hold back tears. _“For my failures.”_

Vergil lifted his eyes to meet hers. There was a moment of sadness between them, though he realized it was directed toward herself. That hint of inadequacy that Vergil knew she felt from time to time. Even as his Queen- even with the memories of her progenitors and the strength she had built over the years- Ashira had never managed to fully escape those thoughts. 

It might have bothered him once, but Vergil understood doubt as well as, if not better than anyone else. Even as a familiar, Nightmare wouldn't have joined her if it didn't feel her conviction. 

Vergil held his hand out to her. She took it, sliding off the creature’s back. It vanished the second she hit the ground, its power retreating into her back. Another image came to him- a dark tattoo of intricate dragon scales etched along her spine- and he brushed his lips on her forehead in encouragement. _“A nightmare you have now conquered.”_

He heard an annoyed grunt from behind him. “Get a room,” Nero muttered as he retrieved the fury’s blade from their hiding spot and secured it to his hip. “Lucia back?”

“Yep,” Ashira said. “Though I have a feeling we’re not going to be happy with a certain librarian once we get back.”

Nero scowled. “You think Pythy did this for fun?”

“He’ll say he helped us,” Ashira said dryly. “Just not in the way we’d hoped.”

* * *

“But it was in the way you needed.” Pythagoras said, unbothered by the murderous glares of four people and a very tired cat. _Typical_. Vergil thought, fully aware that Nero and Lucia were inches from strangeling the old Demon. While Ashira wasn’t too happy about the situation, she was at least content with the outcome, a sentiment Vergil begrudgingly shared. Solo time with his son was quite rare nowadays, and he’d always enjoyed what he could get. “The items?” Pythagoras’ nearest doll held her hand out expectantly. 

“So…?” Nero said, impatient as they handed everything over. 

“They’re adequate,” He said as he handed the blade to a doll in a maid’s outfit. “A knife to replace the one that I can’t sharpen anymore.” Vergil’s eyes narrowed as the demon took the crystal. “Gems to craft into a new crown.” He saw Nero’s fingers twitch toward Blue Rose beside him. “And a branch that burns for thousands of years if tended to properly.” When he tossed that branch into his fireplace, the fire flared as if excited for such nourishment. 

Silence fell over the room. “You can’t be serious.” Nero said. 

“I said they were adequate, did I not?”

“You had us… run errands?”

“Well you did offer, spawn of…” He paused, glancing at Vergil. “The other spawn.” Vergil bit back a growl and felt Ashira’s fingers brush sympathetically against his wrist. “How could I refuse?”

“But… Dante…?” Lucia said. “You said her curses…”

“Meleria's curses aren’t easy to remove,” Pythagoras said with a dismissive wave. “But they always go away after a few weeks. She’s not a monster.”

He vanished, and even Vergil couldn’t hide the flabbergasted look on his face. Nero’s look turned murderous. “That son of a-”

“Language, Nero.”

“Oh don’t you start.”

Dante flopped to his side with a dejected meow, and the others sighed in collective defeat.

* * *

Dante slowly grew accustomed to the feline life. Or, at the very least, he had forced himself to find the good in it.

Of course, he had no desire to stay a cat. _Everyone_ including Lucia (traitor!) had kept a keen eye on him. No pizza, beer, strawberries, or even steak had crossed through the doorway of Devil May Cry since they’d returned. In fact, Dante was certain they’d started eating nothing but healthy food since their dealings with Pythagoras. And while Dante wasn’t certain if they were doing that for his benefit (as he was more inclined to walk into the ocean than eat a salad), he knew that Vergil was enjoying this more than he should be. He always made a great show of bringing Dante his wet cat-food, and would read a book at the kitchen table until he ate it. When Dante had used Calcifer to ask why, Vergil had just shrugged and said, “I’d hate for you to end up malnourished while we wait for it to wear off, dear brother.”

Dante had tried to bite him over that one. Vergil had simply shooed him away with Yamato and that was that. 

At least his cat tongue could handle the overly soggy food, as he was certain his human taste buds would have preferred starvation to that garbage. 

But after two weeks, Dante was certain he was going to lose his mind.

Finally, they reached the last day of Vergil and Ashira’s vacation. While they hadn’t said so directly, Dante was certain that they were getting uncomfortable after being away from their palace for so long. At least time moved much slower over there or they would have left a long time ago. Dante found it rather endearing that they were willing to stay longer to make sure that he was okay, even if Vergil would never admit it. 

Of course, Dante wouldn’t admit it either if this had happened to Vergil instead. In fact, Dante was certain he’d gotten off _lucky_ , as Vergil was more inclined to read on the couch or cuddle with Ashira when he thought no one was looking than torment Dante over his own lapse in judgment. 

So, Dante had left them alone for the most part, as they were rather boring house guests. (Honestly, who didn’t watch TV? Or play games? Or do literally anything else?) When Lucia was home, he’d curl up with her. If it was Iris, she would abuse his cat instincts and toss toys around until she inevitably got bored. Though, Dante didn’t mind that as much as he had at first, as it was about the only exercise he gave himself in this state.

Now, after he had spent a considerable amount of time debating on how to steal pizza from the shop down the street, he nearly purred in excitement when he heard the door close. Lucia wouldn’t be home for a few hours. Iris had gone to visit the twins. Vergil and Ashira had to have left by now. This was his chance.

_Sweet, sweet free-_

Gentle violin music from below stopped him in his tracks. A part of him inwardly groaned - _Dammit, Verge -_ but he just couldn’t help himself. It had been years since he’d heard his brother play. And even Dante couldn’t deny how good his violin skills were. So, instead of sneaking out, (he wouldn’t make it past either of them regardless), he padded over to the banister, squeezing his head through to look down at the office. 

As expected, Vergil was playing his personal violin, one of the few things he had taken to the Underworld as soon as possible. But what surprised Dante was how his brother was moving with it. Clearly, it was some kind of serenade for Ashira, but she was a lot closer than Dante thought she should be. The two almost seemed to be dancing around each other, engaged in a mesmeric staring contest so intense that Dante wasn’t even sure if they were blinking. Every once and awhile, she would lean in just a bit closer, Vergil would shift away, and it would begin all over again. Not a note or step was missed. Ashira’s soft smile never faltered. 

And Vergil…

Was smiling too. 

Dante flopped forward, content. It was nice sometimes to remember how happy his brother was now. _We’ve all come so far,_ he thought. _He damn well better be._ But it was comforting to know that the stresses of the Underworld and his family (and Dante himself, if he was totally honest) didn’t weigh on Vergil as much as Dante thought it might. He was a Sparda first, and Demon King later. 

Watching them reminded Dante of his main reason for wanting to turn back. The food and the duels and all of that normal, family stuff would always be there, but Lucia - as patient as she was - had been exhausted. His mistake had forced her to take over the business with some help from Lady and Trish (who often ran their own jobs with a lot greater pay). And while Lucia was better at organizing everything than him (with some early help from Ashira who seemed to have a personal vendetta against his filing cabinet), it was clearly weighing on her. 

Dante wanted Lucia to smile again. Not that small one he got for being a cute cat. But the one he saw with his terrible jokes and gentle touches. He wanted to hold her again, surprise her with something other than pizza for their makeshift dinner. Maybe he’d buy her another gift and tell her everything she meant to him, something he didn’t trust Calcifer to do properly.

He sighed as he rested his head against the banister. _“Love ya, Luce.”_

A flash of golden light caught him off guard. The banister broke. Dante felt himself falling, but he hit the desk before he had a chance to scramble to safety. It shattered beneath him, and Ashira actually yelped in shock. Dante blinked as his eyesight adjusted, flinching away from the bright light. His back ached from the landing, and his arms just sort of dangling from the wreckage, but…

_Wait…_

He jerked upright with a whoop of delight. “Guess who’s back!” He grinned as he swiveled on Vergil. But his brother’s glare was so deadly Dante was half surprised he didn’t burst into flames. “What?” Dante said. “It’s not like you have to pay for it.” He crossed his arms in a huff. “Thought you’d be happier.”

“Clothes, Dante,” Vergil hissed as he pulled Ashira a bit tighter against his chest. 

_Oh._ Dante might have been more embarrassed, but he couldn’t resist an easy jab. “Technically she’s seen this all before, so…”

He dodged away from a summoned sword and quickly hauled himself upstairs before Vergil decided to do anything else. But Dante couldn’t contain his laughter; a mix of amusement at his brother’s expense and childlike glee. Suddenly, pizza was one of the furthest things from his mind.

_Wonder if the flower shop’s open..._


End file.
